Required
by LookingForLions
Summary: An encounter with the past in the Room of Requirement sets Hermione on a path that leads towards a dark end.
1. Chapter 1

Hermione Granger had never been good at making friends.

Her primary school bullies had made it their goal to point out her every failing. From being too bookish, to being far too bossy, they seemed to find a deep set joy to making her miserable.

"Brush it off," her mother always said when young Hermione would come home in tears over one cruel comment or another, "You're special and amazing, and someday you'll meet people who will appreciate you for you." While meant to be reassuring, these words only served to make Hermione feel more alone.

She didn't want to be "special" or "amazing" if it meant her classmates didn't like her. She just wanted to be normal enough to fit in.

When a tall, severe looking woman appeared in the Granger's family house, the Grangers had been wary at first. Her tales of a world separate from the one that they knew seemed far fetched at best. Though Hermione did feel the sparks of hope, at the thought of a new world. Perhaps she wasn't as different as she thought. Maybe there were others like her, others who would understand her.

After much convincing and wand waving, Helen and Richard Granger finally relented in the face of this magical world.

Hermione's only fear about going to Hogwarts was that she would be horribly behind the other students. After all she had just learned about its existence, while many of the other first years had been exposed to it throughout their entire lives. At the first opportunity, she picked up a pile of books from Diagon Alley to learn everything she could about this new world.

The extent of magic seemed simply stunning to her. Impossible feats appeared to be easily accomplished with a simple wave of a wand. From Potions to Transfiguration, the wizarding world seemed to have something for everyone.

Perhaps in this new world, she'd finally be able to find some friends. After all, everything seemed possible with the accessibility of magic, even Hermione Granger making a friend.

Once entering Hogwarts, however, it became clear that despite her attempts at fitting in, she was still too bossy and bookish for her classmates. Rather than being behind, it was apparent that she was the only one in her year willing to pick up the textbooks outside of class. While the Slytherin taunts about her hair and attitude were annoying, nothing compared to the comments her own housemates made about her.

When the Sorting Hat had placed her in Gryffindor, she had been thrilled. From reading Hogwarts a History, it was clear that the lion house was superior. After all, Albus Dumbledore had been a Gryffindor, and he was highly successful. All of the Gryffindor upper years had been more than friendly to her too. During the feast she had been sat next to the ginger Percy Weasley who had been more than happy to lecture her about the opportunities Hogwarts presented to those who were academically successful. The idea of earning points for the House Cup was particularly appealing, as it provided an incentive to do well in her coursework.

In class she diligently completed her work, and even tried to help her classmates when they struggled with something. This, however, rarely came across the way she intended, leading to many backhanded compliments and taunts.

The other Gryffindor girls in her year, Parvati and Lavender, were always gossiping behind her back when they thought she wasn't listening. While comments about the unfortunate nature of her hair and teeth weren't new, they still pained her to hear.

Ronald Weasley, though, was particularly vicious in his belittlement of her, criticizing everything from her bossy nature, to her appearance, reminding her of her primary school bullies.

Absolutely nothing had changed. Even in the magical world, where the impossible was considered mundane, Hermione Granger was still unable to find a single friend.

So the hushed conversation she overheard between Seamus and Ron over dinner one night hit home.

"I swear, she's insufferable. Absolutely insufferable," Ron hissed, "It's no wonder no one can stand her."

At the noises of affirmation made by Seamus, Hermione abruptly stood up and exited the Great Hall, fighting back tears.

She blindly made her way through the castle, not really caring about where she ended up, as long as it was far away from everyone. She couldn't deal with this all alone. It was too much for any one person to handle. One person to confide in was all she was asking for.

Like a mantra, these thoughts kept cycling through her head as she wandered through the school.

Hermione skidded to a stop in front of a rather atrocious painting of dancing trolls, her eyes fixated on the ornate door next to it. Something from within the depths of her being pulled her towards it. In a daze, she felt the cool doorknob underneath her hands, the sensation pulling some of the fogginess out of her mind.

With a jerk, the huge door swung open, letting out a haunting groan and revealing a beautiful library with a you boy sitting in the corner.

His eyebrows lifted in an expression that was comical in nature at the sight of her. She looked at him with an inquisitive gaze, taking in his perfectly styled curls, causing a brief flare of envy. Her eyes fell on the thick tome he had been reading.

"Oh dear, I'm sorry! I didn't know anyone was in here," Hermione said, "To be fair I also don't really know where here is either." She peered at the book on his lap, taking in the oddly familiar binding. "Is that Hogwarts: A History?"

Pink flashed across his pale features as he spat out an answer. "Yeah. Do you have a problem with that?"

"No, no, of course not! It's...it's just my favorite book," she stammered out, honestly startled by his curt tone. "I'm Hermione Granger, by the way."

"Tom Riddle. If you don't mind me asking, how did you discover this room?"

Discover? That was an unusual word to use. It implied that this place was somewhere _to _discover.

Not wanting to admit her questions of friendship and escape, Hermione simply said, "I just needed someplace quiet to read. I fine my roommates can be a bit erm… overwhelming sometimes."

He studied her closely for a moment. "I get that. You're a first year too, right? Gryffindor, I take, from your robes."

Hermione fidgeted under his piercing gaze. Something about his eyes made her feel like he could see right through her.

"Uh, yeah. You're a Slytherin right? I don't think I've seen you though, even in our shared classes."

He didn't seem like someone she'd miss either. He had a commanding presence about him that drew her in. Perhaps Malfoy's nastiness had simply distracted her enough to not notice him, though that frankly seemed unlikely.

"Hmm. Me neither. I guess I've been paying less attention than I thought," he said with a shrug.

Silence stretched between them, dragging on and filling the room with a sense of awkwardness. Hermione was filled with the urge to do anything to disrupt the silence, and to move his gaze away from her. Continually being under that intense scrutiny, quite frankly made her uncomfortable.

"Well, I'm sorry for intruding for so long. I guess I'll go find somewhere else so I'm not bothering you for any longer," She finally managed to get out, feeling her face turn hot with embarrassment. In a jerky movement she turned to the door to leave. While this boy was interesting, there was something about him that made her nervous, possibly stemming from his green and silver tie.

"Wait!" The exclamation made her jump. She froze by the door, turning back to look at him. "You can stay and read her if you want to." A blush lit up his face in scarlet. "I don't mind."

"Thank you." Hermione moved towards the couch he was sitting on, pulling her book out her her bag.

Tom scooted over to make room for her, curiously examining the cover of her book, a defense tome listed as a reference in Quirrell's class.

Used to the judgmental looks from her peers, she turned to the defensive. "I got interested in the lecture in DADA the other day."

"It looks fascinating." His brows formed for a moment, before he glanced down at his book to hide his expression.

"It is! It's hard to believe that this all is real sometime you know? Like I've grown up in a world where all of this is something of fairy tales." She gestured around the room wonder echoing across her features. It stunned her how amazing everything at Hogwarts was.

"It's all impossible, but lovely at the same time." A wistful smile turned his lips up. "I love it."

"Are you a Muggleborn too?"

"Dunno. Orphan."

"Oh." Hermione mulled that piece of information over for a moment. "Must be hard, especially rooming with Malfoy. He seems like the most racist of the lot." She let out a humorless laugh, remembering the "Mudblood" commentary him and his cronies regularly used around her.

"It's not the easiest," Tom said dryly, "I'm just gonna be better than him."

That made sense. In fact it was her goal with dealing with the ferrety Slytherin as well. "Well, it shouldn't be too difficult, what with him never opening a book."

Tom snorted, the sound causing a flash of pride to fill Hermione's chest. If she could make this stoic boy laugh, she could do anything.

"He's been handed everything on a silver platter. Imagine the face when he's upstaged by someone less 'refined' than him." Tom did his best impression of the pureblood aristocracy in the school, turning his nose up and letting out a haughty sniff. A giggle escaped her at the thought.

Rather than reading as planned, the two of them instead shared anecdotes both from the wizarding and Muggle worlds, in addition to discussing theory brushed upon in class that they had found fascinating.

At a glance at her watch, Hermione shot to her feet, letting out a gasp. "Merlin, it's almost curfew." She began throwing her belongings back into her bag. "Er, it was nice to get to know you. D'you want to meet again tomorrow night maybe?" She scratched the back of her neck nervously, pausing in her hurried actions.

"Of course. It's difficult to find good conversation when surrounded by dunderheads."

Hermione giggled before waving goodbye. She walked back to the Gryffindor dorm with memories of her time with the young boy bringing a smile to her face the whole way.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Some of this chapter is quoted directly from _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_.

The next morning meeting Tom seemed like a dream. The concept of a nice Slytherin was farfetched as it was, but the conditions in which they met also seemed surreal to Hermione. It all took on an almost dreamlike aura in her memories. While she was nearly certain she would see him again in the evening, she still hurried to the Great Hall for breakfast in hopes of getting the chance to exchange words before then.

Throughout breakfast, her eyes scanned across the Slytherin table, looking for Tom's dark hair. Nerves led to her leg shaking throughout the meal. Would he be amicable when given the opportunity? Or would he be as rude as his housemates? Was he even coming to breakfast? Did he even exist? Or had he merely been some sort of hallucinatory manifestation of her loneliness?

A lump formed in her throat at that thought, becoming more and more painful when it became clear that he wasn't going to show up for breakfast. As time went on, and students came and went, despair began to rise within her. Still, she stayed in the Great Hall until the very last moment. There was no way she was gonna miss seeing him based on bad timing alone. But with each passing moment, her memories of Tom slipped further and further into feeling like a figment of her imagination.

Dejected, Hermione finally stood up, her back protesting from sitting on the rather uncomfortable benches for so long. _Perhaps he just wasn't a breakfast person_, she thought. But with how studious he had seemed to be, there was no way he would miss class. However, the only class she had with the Slytherins on Tuesdays was Double Potions, her last class of the day.

Transfiguration with the Ravenclaws seemed to drag on. It didn't help that Professor McGonagall was lecturing on the second chapter of _A Beginners Guide to Transfiguration_, which Hermione had practically memorized at this point. The practical part of the lesson hardly went any quicker. Unsurprisingly, she was the first, and only one to successfully turn a match into a needle.

The process of turning a match to a needle was quite simple. Transfiguration, at least at this level, seemed to come painfully easy to her. It merely required visualization of the atomic structure changing, contorting into the new shape.

Though she did wonder if by using the same spell she could change the match into something other than a needle, but similar enough. A pin perhaps.

She reached over to grab another match from the box. In theory, visualization should be the only difference between a pin and a needle. The structure was similar enough that the same incantation should work.

"_Conmutocus,_" she carefully pronounced, a furrow appearing between her brows with intense concentration. A quick flash of pleasure lighting up her chest when she examined the pin.

In her opinion, her peers relied far to much on the incantation alone. While words and wand motion was important for magic, it was clear to her that intention and visualization were vital. Waving a stick and saying some words wouldn't work unless the wizard coerced their magic to comply the way they wanted it to.

As she had been the only one to successfully transfigure the match, she was also the only one who left the class without any homework, much to the displeasure of the others in the class.

In contrast to how slow Transfiguration had felt, Charms with the Hufflepuffs seemed to speed by. Most of the spells they were learning, she had already worked out in her spare time, much like in most of her other classes. This, unfortunately, put her far ahead of the learning curve, much to the displeasure of the vast majority of her classmates. Though, she didn't quite understand what the fuss was about. If they chose to put in the time and effort to learn, they'd catch up easily.

Then came Double Potions. While she usually dreaded the two hours with Professor Snape, as his blatant favoritism was angering at best, she was hoping to see Tom. A Slytherin ally in that class could be useful. Quite frankly she needed someone to watch her back in that class, and while she usually worked with Neville, he didn't really have the constitution to stop the Slytherin bullying.

When she arrived to the class, her eyes flitted over the group of students waiting by the closed doors. Her heart began to sink when the closest she saw to Tom was the dark haired Theodore Nott.

Perhaps he was running a smidge later than everyone else. Or perhaps he had just mysteriously gotten ill and was unable to attend classes. Or, more likely, he was just a loneliness fueled hallucination.

Hermione made her way into the classroom when Professor Snape opened the door, shooting one last glance at her classmates to confirm that Tom still wasn't there.

Neville shot her a friendly grin when she sat next to him. The two of them generally worked well together, though that was mostly do to constant vigilance on Hermione's part. On too many occasions to count, she had stopped him from messing up the order of the ingredients.

Professor Snape walked into the room and waved his hand at the chalkboard causing the instructions for the Boil Curing Potion to appear. While it looked simple on paper, she knew she'd have to keep a hawklike gaze on Neville to make sure he didn't mix up any of the instructions.

Her attention to Neville's actions, however, didn't stop Dean and Seamus from messing up their potion, leading to a rather dramatic several minutes after it melted through their cauldron, sending some type of mild acid all over Seamus, Dean, and Neville.

"Finnegan, you absolute buffoon! What type of idiot would put the porcupine quills in before stirring?" Snape growled, "20 points from Gryffindor! Now go to the Infirmary. Class is dismissed."

The class had no issue heeding his last command, most hurrying out as he began cleaning up the mess. Hermione lingered for a moment, debating on asking him about Tom, but the glare he shot her discouraged her. She gathered her things and turned on heel.

Dejection colored her motions as she made her way to the Great Hall for dinner. Not only was she friendless, but it was beginning to appear that she was going insane to top it off. Meeting Tom had felt so real but the events around it were too surreal for Hermione to truly say that it actually happened.

Lost in thought, the sound of footsteps behind her barely registered. That was, of course, until she felt a hand on her shoulder, harshly yanking her into a nearby empty room. Hermione peered at who grabbed her, only to be met with the pointy, pale features of the Malfoy heir. She registered the fact that Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy Parkinson were all hovering around her.

"Granger, what's your problem?" He spat, stepping away and wiping the hand that grabbed her off on his robes, in disgust. "Every time I look over, you're staring at the Slytherins. Why?"

Hermione shrunk away from him, carefully formulating her answer. "Oh, I-I was just l-looking for someone."

"What, like a respectable Slytherin would give scum like you the time of day," jeered Parkinson from behind Malfoy.

"Why are you guys even bothering me about this?" Fear began building in her. While her mother had always told her to rise above the taunting and disengage from bullies, she wasn't quite sure that that would work in this situation.

"We just wanted to remind you not to look at your superiors, filthy Mudblood." Malfoy pulled his want out in a sudden move, much to her dismay. "Hopefully you won't forget this. _Petrificus Totalus!_"

Right as she was struggling to pull out her own wand, Hermione felt her muscles freeze together; the curse struck its mark, much to the amusement of Malfoy and his cronies, who laughed as they watched her fall to the floor. He aimed a kick at her side before finally leaving.

Pain laced up her side. While waiting for her muscles to unfreeze, she had plenty of time to think. Malfoy had clearly escalated the situation beyond simple schoolyard taunts.

And here just a day ago, she'd been complaining that her dorm mates were the worst of the lot. Neither Ron Weasley nor Lavender Brown had it in them to throw a curse at her. The comments about her appearance and disposition were tolerable. She was used to it. Getting cursed though? That was something that Hermione couldn't deal with alone.

If Tom wasn't in that room on the seventh floor that evening, she didn't know what she'd do. A tear slipped out of her eye at the thought. It would be unbearable to be so fundamentally alone again.

As her stiff muscles began to cooperate, she slowly made her way up to the Gryffindor dorms, unable to handle the shame of walking into dinner late.

After she dropped off several books and picked up a few more for extracurricular reading, Hermione stood in front of the portrait hole. Was it worth going to the room on the seventh floor with the possibility of having to face humiliation or confronting her probable insanity? The thought of Tom waiting for her, only for her to never show, propelled her out of the common room. At the very least, the room was a peaceful environment for studying.

The walk to the seventh floor seemed to come to her like second nature, despite the fact that she had only gone there one. But when she got to the portrait of dancing trolls, there was no door.

Suddenly Tom's comments about "discovering" the room made a lot more sense. Trying to think, she began pacing, mulling over what she had done differently to get there the previous day.

Maybe there was another identical portrait of trolls somewhere else on the seventh floor (though she frankly found that to be incredibly unlikely). Maybe it was tied to an emotions. After all, she had been a loneliness induced emotional wreck the night before.

Perhaps it was wished based. She drew on her knowledge of Muggle mythologies, contemplating the idea. There were countless stories based on wishing. It also made sense when she considered the wish based magic that nearly all wizards learned before getting wands

Feeling quite silly, she closed her eyes. _Please show me where Tom and I met, _she thought, continuing her nervous pacing.

A grating sound came from the wall next to her, jarring her. At a glance at the wall, she saw the same ornately decorate door that had been there the night before. She reached out to pull the door open, revealing a room identical to the night before, minus one Tom Riddle.

That wasn't surprising, it was halfway through dinner after all. This assurance only had minimal success though; anxiety still through her.

Hermione sat down, pulling out a couple books. She idly wished she knew what time it was, having forgotten her watch. To her surprise, as soon as the thought crossed her mind, several clocks appeared around the room.

So wishes even inside the room could be granted, but the question remained: what could she ask the room for? The extent of the power of this room was something she wanted to experiment with more. Ideally with Tom.

Every few minutes, her eyes darted from her homework to a clock across from her. The minute hand seemed to taunt her with how slowly it moved.

_I just want to know if I've gone crazy._ She let out a frustrated growl when she checked the time to see that only a minute had passed.

As if on cue, the door swung open to reveal Tom. His eyes lit up when they landed on her, his shoulders falling with relief.

"Thank god." She shot to her feet, taking a few steps towards him. "I thought I'd gone round the bend. Where were you all day? I looked for you." Her voice shook on the last words. Considering the day she'd had, she wasn't surprised to feel tears of relief well up in her eyes. Hermione blinked them away, ducking her head so he wouldn't see.

"I was in class," he drawled, "Where were you? I thought this had been a joke." She was surprised to feel gentle hands against her arm, pulling her back to the sofa.

"I was in class too." Who did he think she was? A slacker?

Their eyes met, realization dawning. "May I ask, what is the date?" He finally voiced the question.

The possible implications of this echoed through Hermione's brain, making her wary to reply. She didn't know what she would do if her worries were confirmed. "September 10th…1991" She watched his eyes widen in shock. "When is it for you?"

"September 10th 1937."

50 years separated them. 54 years to be exact. A hysterical laugh bubbled up in her chest. She could not believe this. Over half a century separated her for her only friend. This had to be the universe's sick idea of a joke.

Her hysterical laughter rapidly turned into tears. She couldn't focus on anything other than the thought of the time separating them, until she felt a hand on her shoulder. Hermione looked up and met Tom's eyes, scanning their piercing grey depths.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he soothed, "You have me. You'll always have me. It might be a little weird, but this…this is special…You're special."

Her harsh breathing began to even out as the flow of tears abated. With a few awkward pats on the back, Tom said, "We have each other."

"I'm s-sorry," She finally managed, pulling away from him. "It's just been a really awful day and this was the cherry on top." At his questioning look, she told him about what Malfoy had done earlier. Tom looked beyond infuriated.

"He hexed you? Then kicked you? Purebloods think they're so much better. Well, we'll show them. We'll show them what power actually is." The corners of his mouth turned up at the thought.

"Yeah! It's not like any of them actually work to learn spells. I've known about magic for like a month and I'm still better than all of them," she said.

"Hmph, they don't work in your time either?"

After that the conversation turned to a lighter topic: comparing various families across time. As it turned out, Malfoy's pointed features were an inherited trait; the same could be said about Parkinson's pug-like face.

A comfortable silence fell over them, as the two worked on homework. Tom's soft voice broke the silence. "Hey 'Mione? D'you know what I'm like? Do you know my kids, or grandkids, or something?" A pleading undertone bled through his words, causing a flash of guilt to flood through Hermione.

"I'm sorry. I don't know. I haven't met any Riddles yet, but I also haven't had that much time," she said, pausing for a moment to remember his determination to be remembered. "I haven't read your name in any books, but I haven't been reading much modern history."

After a heavy pause, she heard a murmured "Okay."

In hopes of bringing up his quickly darkening mood, she brought up the thoughts she'd had while in Transfiguration, mentioning how wand movements and incantations could be limiting without visualizations and creativity. This sparked quite the interesting discussion. While Professor McGonagall was a good teacher, Hermione couldn't imagine how cool it would be to learn from Dumbledore himself, though Tom wasn't a fan. "He just doesn't like me," was the short reply she'd gotten when she asked him.

Shortly after that, it was close enough to curfew for Hermione to leave, disappointment alight in her stomach as she left. While they planned to meet again the next night to hopefully spend more time on homework, she wished they could spend more time together. She'd never met anyone that just _got her_, the way Tom did. There was something special about him.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she almost tripped over Neville, who was sprawled out in front of the Fat Lady.

"Agh! Neville?! What are you doing out here?"

"Erm… I forgot the password. Thank Merlin you showed up though! I thought I'd have to spend the night out here." He quickly sat up, stumbling to his feet.

"_Caput Draconis,_" She clearly enunciated before turning back to Neville as the portrait swung open, "Have you ever tried mnemonics?" At his confused look, she elaborated. "It's a memorization technique. For this one you could use something like… Catapult Draco."

He let out a snort, as she began setting up in the Common Room to finish the homework that her and Tom had barely touched.

"Is that the charms essay?" He questioned, looking at the books she had pulled out. At her nod he continued, "Would you mind if I worked with you? I'm rubbish at remembering to do things."

"Yeah of course."

The two of them worked in silence, only interrupted by the scratching of quills and the occasional question from Neville.

That was, until footsteps sounded on the boy's dormitory stairs. Hermione glanced over, only to be faced with Harry and Ron. Confusion furrowed her brow. What could they be doing awake at this hour? She thought back to the events of the week before, remembering the events of the Flying Lesson that weekend, as well as the rumors of a wizard duel that followed.

"You have got to be kidding me," she said under her breath, before raising her voice so the idiot duo could hear her, "You're not actually planning on dueling Malfoy, are you?"

"_You!_" Ron said furiously, "What are you doing?"

"Homework."

Hermione got to her feet as she watched Harry pull the other boy towards the portrait hole. She could not believe the absolute idiocy. They were going to make Gryffindor lose the House Cup!

"You're going to get expelled if you get caught, I hope you know," She began, following them out of the Common Room, "Not only that, you're going to make us lose the House Cup to Slytherin!"

"Go away."

"Fine. Just remember I warned you, when you're on your way home tomorrow." She let out a huff, turning to go back into the Common Room, only to be faced with a pale Neville, who evidently had followed her, and an empty portrait.

"What did I do to deserve this?" She said to herself.

"W-what are we gonna do?" Neville asked, twisting his hands with worry. "They're not actually planning on dueling, are they?"

She stood in thought for a moment, watching the boys' quickly disappearing backs. They had two options, wait here and get caught by Filch, or go with the other boys and get caught by Filch, but then they'd at least Neville and her would have an excuse. They _had _been trying to stop them.

"I'm going with them," She said shortly, before breaking out into a sprint to catch up with Harry and Ron. From the sounds behind her, it was clear that Neville was coming too. She skidded to a stop next to the boys. "We're coming with."

"You're not!"

"I'm not waiting for Filch to catch us. At least if I'm with you when I get caught, Neville and I can tell Filch that we were trying to stop you and got locked out."

Ron glared at his watch. Hermione knew that the time was creeping closer and closer to the set time for the duel. He couldn't protest for long without being late.

"Ugh. Fine. But if you get us caught, I'm hexing the both of you."

The group slowly made their way through the winding corridors to the Trophy Room. She kept expecting to see Mrs. Norris or Filch standing around every corner they turned. After what seemed like an eternity, they arrived to the room, the crystal cases eerily reflecting the moonlight. At a glance around, it quickly became apparent that Malfoy and his goons had yet to show.

"_He's late. Maybe he chickened out," _Ron finally said after shooting another glance at his watch.

"I bet he isn't even planning on coming," Hermione hissed.

The four froze at a thump in the corridor. This was then followed by something profoundly horrifying to her, Filch's voice.

"_Sniff around my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner._"

Hermione stood frozen in fear, listening to the footsteps get closer. Harry's hand on her arm, as he dragged her out of the room, jarred her back into awareness. He gestured at an abandoned corridor. Their silent passage was only silent for so long, however. It was interrupted by a massive crash as Neville fell onto a suit of armor.

The mad dash that followed left her gasping for breath. When they finally skidded to a stop, she hunched over, clutching at the stitch in her side.

"I think we lost him." In her humble opinion, Harry seemed far to optimistic considering what had almost happened. Filch had Mrs. Norris who could easily find their scent. It was only a matter of time before the two appeared again.

"Malfoy obviously tricked you. Filch was obviously tipped off, and who else would - " Her voice cut out as she saw Peeves round the corner. She pushed at Neville and Harry, muttering, "Go! Go…go!"

They broke back into another dead sprint, when the four heard the poltergeist shout after them.

This was how Hermione was going to go. She was going to get caught and expelled for trying to stop dueling. Honestly, it wouldn't surprise her at this point, especially with how much the universe seemed to be messing with her.

They rounded a turn, which led straight to a dead end, marked by a locked door. She heard Peeves' cackling, and Flich's thundering footsteps close behind. A bolt of determination filled her. This was _not_ how she was going to go. She snatched Harry's want out of his hand and focused on the unlocking spell she had read about over the summer. Though she'd never actually attempted to do the spell, now was as good a time as any.

"_Alohomora_," She whispered, pushing her magic through the resistance of the unfamiliar wand. At the sound of the lock clicking, she wrenched the door open.

They hurriedly piled in, standing in silence as they listened to Filch pass by.

Relief filled Hermione as she heard his retreating footsteps, until she heard Neville's anxious gasp, which lead her to turn around.

The sight of the monstrous dog that met her almost made her ill. This was why the third floor corridor was banned. Three heads stared back at her, long strands of saliva dripping out of their partially opened maws. Her eyes darted over the creature, landing on its feet. Cerberus' in mythology were known for being guardians of objects, so it made sense when she saw the trapdoor underneath its feet.

Her breath came out in panicked gasps, as a rumbling growl shook her to the very core. Forget expulsion, they were going to die.

Harry seemed to be the only to retain sense, as he was the one who had pulled the door open. The four tumbled out, and began yet another desperate sprint back to the Gryffindor tower.

They skidded to a stop in from of the Fat Lady, who had thankfully returned to her portrait.

"Caput Draconis!" Harry said, ignoring her questioning on where they'd been. Hermione watched the portrait swing open with relief.

She collapsed on one of the couches, attempting to slow her heartbeat, which was beating far too fast. Silence filled the room as they all processed what they had just gone through.

Of course it was interrupted by Ron. "_What do they think they're doing keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?_"

Was he really that thick? She'd been panicking and she still had spotted the trapdoor, not to mention the fact that Cerberus' were guardians. At a glance at the other boys, it became clear that she was the only one who used their eyes. "Are all of you blind?" She asked. "_Didn't you see what it was standing on?_"

"_The floor?" Harry suggested, "I wasn't looking at the feet, I was too busy with its heads."_

_"__No, not the floor. It was standing on a trapdoor. Its obviously guarding something."_

She stood up with a huff, unable to deal with this anymore.

_"__I hope you're pleased with yourselves. We could have been killed - or worse, expelled. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to bed."_

Hermione had just made the first friend in her entire life, and she refused to lose him because of getting expelled.

She refused to lose him at all.


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N:**_ _Sorry for the long hiatus. Life got a little crazy for me, mixed in with a major depressive episode, but hopefully I'll be able to continue writing on a more regular schedule._

If there was one thing Tom Riddle abhorred, it was sharing.

In the orphanage there were few things he could call his own. He had to beg, steal, and manipulate his way into acquiring all of his possessions.

As his first year at Hogwarts inched by, he noticed a distinct change in behavior from Hermione. From complaining the most about her housemates to being inexplicably tied to two of them by a troll of all things, he wasn't the sole recipient of her attention anymore. Sure, they still were rapidly working their way through coursework, but now she had _friends_ to distract her from him. It's like she didn't understand how weak it made her. Like she didn't understand that she was his.

Additionally, it appeared that the future of Hogwarts was bleak under Albus Dumbledore. How that man had let a mountain troll get past his guard astounded Tom. A student could have died. _Hermione _could have died. The thought of her disappearing from his life made something twist in his chest. He wouldn't even know what happened to her for 50 years. She could die under Dumbledore's watch and he would be none the wiser.

Who knew if Tom would ever survive for the next 50 years. Hermione had been searching for weeks and had yet to find anything about him, aside from an award for special services to the school he would receive his fifth year. He didn't merely want to be passingly interesting though. He wanted to have history books dedicate chapters to his accomplishment, and the fact that Hermione had yet to find mention of him was a tad infuriating. If only the girl would let him peruse the books, but she was too invested in "maintaining the timeline," as if talking to him wasn't interfering enough. Not that he'd let her sever all contact with him for the sake of the timeline. She was the only person he'd ever called his friend, and he refused to let her leave his life.

Tom looked up from the Charms essay he was pretending to focus on (as if he didn't already understand it all) and saw that it was approaching time to head to Transfiguration.

That class was a nightmare, especially for Slytherins. Dumbledore's house biases ran deep, and he often took any and every opportunity to dock points from Tom's house.

And for some reason, unknown to Tom, the professor seemed to have some type of special dislike for him.

He carelessly shoved his things into his bookbag and made his way out of the library, carefully avoiding the hawkeyed glare of Madam Pince as he snagged _A Journey Through the Dark Arts_ from the edge of the Restricted Section.

Knowledge was power, after all. Unfortunately, due to the house she was sorted in, Hermione didn't quite understand that concept as well as he did. She had morals about what she learned, and the Dark Arts fell out of that range. But he was trying his best to convince her to at least read about them. Magic was magic, and even some of the lightest spells could be convoluted into something dark based on intent.

Slytherins only listened to power and purity, and few things were more powerful than dark magic.

Tom had to get into the pureblood aristocracy somehow, if he ever wanted to amount to anything. Being of questionable birth would make it impossible to become anything more than a glorified secretary unless he had connections with the Slytherin elite.

And, unfortunately, Abraxas Malfoy was part of that elite.

A hex flew past his legs, and Tom made eye contact with the boy in question. A sneer twisted the pointed features of the third year, and a "filthy Mudblood" escaped him, his voice distorted with disgust.

Tom barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes. Mudblood he might be, or perhaps he was something more. Either way, he had more power than this poor excuse for a pureblood could ever imagine.

A quick glance around the hall showed that they were the only people there, which was fitting. Slytherins kept their quarrels within the house. There was no need for other people to see a split in the perfectly crafted facade of unity. Unfortunately, the empty hallway also meant that nobody would see Tom hex Malfoy.

"_Petrificus Totalus," _Tom muttered, taking a page out of the other boy's descendant's book. This incapacitated the boy, before Tom continued on his merry way.

He'd been practicing with Hermione for this very type of encounter, although it was mostly so she could protect herself. He knew that he'd do fine, but there was something so soft and pure about her. Seeing the after-effects of Malfoy's bullying had only solidified his belief that she needed someone to teach her how to stand up for herself, and it allowed him to practice his wand work too.

In front of the closed doors to the Transfiguration classroom stood a gaggle of first year Gryffindors and Slytherins.

Tom took his place next to a skinny dark haired boy, Antonin Dolohov if his memory served him correctly. The other boy was ostracized from the clique of pureblood Slytherins as well in spite of his blood status. His Russian origins made him unattractive to the other first years, and as such, he was a possible ally for Tom.

The classroom doors opened with a bang. Dumbledore who appeared to always want to take an opportunity to show off his magic had thrown a spell at them. Tom resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the childish behavior, instead opting to form his face into a mask of cool indifference. Making sure nobody could gauge your thoughts through your expression was a priority in Slytherin, and everyone was encouraged to learn how to control their features.

The phoenix which was perched on the professor's desk was a gaudy as always.

Even though Hermione was convinced that Dumbledore was some type of great wizard, Tom wasn't sold on it. In his time, while the auburn haired professor did have a reputation for incredible magical feats, he hadn't reached the legendary status that he would reach in the 1990s. It made Tom

wonder what would happen between now and then which would hurdle the older man into infamy.

Either way, that class was a bit of a joke to the Slytherins. While Transfiguration was useful, they kept a running tally of points lost during that class.

A small sneer lifted the corner of Tom's mouth before he quickly schooled his features again, pretending to rewrite the Transfiguration alphabet in his notes. He had already memorized it, admittedly with Hermione's help, but his peers weren't necessarily the smartest or most diligent students. And he knew from his discussions with Hermione that the youth didn't get any better in the future either.

"Good afternoon students. Today we shall learn the transfiguration spell known as Avifors. Can any of you share with the class what that spell does?" Dumbledore began the lesson.

Tom raised his hand. It wasn't that difficult of a question. While he knew it from actually opening his textbooks, it should be pretty self explanatory to other students as well. The Latin root word _Avis_ was clearly in the word so it was obvious that it had something to do with birds. Not that he really expected his peers to use their brains.

Dumbledore's piercing eyes met his. Whenever the other man made eye contact with him it felt as though he was peering deep into his soul. Perhaps him and Hermione should research mind magic next as it was a truly disconcerting feeling.

"Mr. Riddle, why don't you share with the class."

"Simply put, Avifors allows a wizard to transform small objects - such as the ones in that box on your desk - into birds."

"Nicely put. Two points to Slytherin," Dumbledore said before continuing with his lecture, "Transfiguration is some of the most difficult magic to practise effectively. You need to have a strong will to force things from their natural shape. It is extremely difficult, for example, to transform something non-living into something that is alive. As such, I do not expect you to master this spell immediately. We'll work on it for the next couple of days, and will hit on it again in future years."

The professor pulled a small key out of the box before demonstrating the spell. "_Avifors,_" He said, flicking his wand, and the key turned into a robin.

After the items in the box were passed around, Tom began working his way through the spell. This was probably the most difficult spellwork they had done in any class thus far; although, him and Hermione had been doing more difficult spellwork in their own time for weeks now.

Neither the incantation, nor the wand movement were particularly difficult, yet the key seemed resistant to change form into a bird. He gritted his teeth after casting the spell unsuccessfully and focused his entire attention on transforming the key.

He felt his magic funnel through his wand, facing some resistance, and in a flash, a sparrow was looking up at him from the spot where the key had been a mere moment before.

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth; this was a job well done. He glanced up around the room and saw that he was the only one who had successfully completed the spell at this point. Of course Dumbledore didn't notice. If he acknowledged the sparrow flitting around the Slytherin end of the classroom he'd have to give points to Slytherin, something that he was fairly resistant towards doing.

Frankly, the two points he'd awarded Tom was a rare occurrence. Dumbledore did his best to appear unbiased to the public eye, but all the Slytherins knew that there was a distinct point receiving discrepancy in Transfiguration between the snakes and the lions.

To occupy the rest of the class Tom worked to undo the transfiguration he'd done on the sparrow. The spell would come undone either with time or a _Finite Incantatem_, but there was no fun in that. His attempts to nonverbally force a transfiguration with no distinct spell were unsuccessful, this time at least. Perhaps with more practice he'd be able to achieve results.

The class was dismissed with homework to keep practicing the spell, as Tom remained the only person to have successfully completed it. Continuing to work on Avifors for the rest of the week was an unappealing thought, but there wasn't much he could do about it. Maybe he'd try to make a raven instead of a sparrow next time.

Tom slowly made his way to the Great Hall for dinner.

The food at Hogwarts certainly beat the fare he was served at Wool's, and with tales of discontent on the continent, Tom was expecting a reduction of food at the orphanage in the coming years. Another war was a distinct possibility, but he only hoped that he'd be able to escape in the Wizarding World before that point. Muggles were disgusting creatures. In spite of her upbringing, Hermione still maintained a fondness for her Muggle relatives. She behaved as if her peers hadn't bullied her for being different. Her tolerance of them boggled his mind.

Much like the rest of his meals thus far, Tom sat far away from the general Slytherin cohort. Antonin sat closer to him than their other peers, but neither boy talked to the other.

Within what felt like minutes, dinner was over and it was time for Tom to make his way to meet Hermione in the Room of Requirement.

It had been quite the fascinating discovery when he had found mention of a room in Hogwarts which provided what the user needed. What was even more fascinating was how it seemed to defy the logic of magic as well. The only things able to distort the timeline were time turners Hermione had told him, as they had yet to be invented.

When he got to the painting of the dancing trolls, he paced in front of the wall with the thought "_Give me a place where Hermione and I can study_" running through his head. With three paces a door emerged from within the wall.

A cozy room filled with books met him as he opened the door, but a quick glance revealed that Hermione had yet to arrive.

This was the one place he could come in contact with the future. They had tried to exit the room together, purely to see what would happen, and they had emerged separated once again by 50 years. Tom had also attempted to leave with some of the books that had yet to be published that he'd found in the room, but that had also failed.

It was so infuriating.

Hermione was his friend, but nobody could know about her. She was his ally and the only person who could compare to his natural aptitude in magic. She was his way of finding out about things that had yet to pass. His very own Seer, but without the inconsistencies that come with prophecies.

Like usual, she entered the room at 7:00 at the dot.

In a flash of wild curls, she ran to him and gave him a quick hug.

"You would not believe what happened today Tom," she started what was sure to be a long winded story, "Ron was asking me if he could copy my Charms homework, which he should've completed by then as we've known about it for weeks and…"

Her voice washed over him in a comforting wave. There was something about her presence that just put him completely at ease.

After a few minutes of soaking up her voice, he broke in with a cheeky grin. "That's all quite fascinating 'Mione, but guess what I did today. I hexed Malfoy to try and teach him a lesson for bothering me about my blood status."

Her mouth opened in a surprised O. "But Tom, that's against school rules! You're not supposed to do that!"

"Yeah, ok, like rules ever stopped them."

"Still, you should rise above and be the bigger person. That's what I've always been told to do and it's never caused me any problems."

Tom rolled his eyes. "Sure it hasn't," he said drawing out the words, "So I take you're still letting Malfoy step all over you? You're better than him, we both know that, so show him. Show him why he shouldn't mess with you."

Her lip trembled before she turned away to search her bag.

"Sorry 'Mione, I didn't mean to be so harsh. I just want what's best for-"

She cut him off, by pulling up a thick tome, "I found this in the library. I thought it would be useful to look at for our situation." The title read _The Unreality of Time_. "I skimmed some of it earlier today and it has an interesting perspective. It talked about a formation of alternate parallel timelines when people interfere with the timeline, so it's possible that we're just communicating from parallel timelines." She paused for a moment gauging his reaction before adding, "I just thought it was an interesting alternative way of looking at this."

"Would this parallel timeline explanation mean that you could tell me more about the future?" A devilish grin lit up his features.

She sniffed haughtily before turning her nose up. "Of course not."

And with that, the tension was broken. That was, until Tom showed Hermione the book he had picked up from the Restricted Section. She had just glared at him, and the two of them began working through _Standard Book of Spells Grade 3_ instead.

Being with her was just so intellectually stimulating. She followed his train of thought in ways that no one else could. And even though their magic wasn't fully developed yet, she still competed with him in magical capabilities. Her Muggle upbringing was another similarity too, although she hadn't gone through nearly the same struggles that he had faced at Wool's.

To put it frank, being around her was refreshing. Sure her Gryffindor sensibilities could be annoying, but it was nice to have someone who didn't dance around the matter at hand like his Slytherin counterparts.

Their time together ticked by, much faster than either of them would have wanted, until curfew was a mere ten minutes away. As neither of them wanted to risk getting caught after curfew, and neither had been able to manage Disillusionment, their magic was still too under developed, that left no choice but to head their separate ways.

Tom still thought that the Filch character that Hermione dealt with in her time still sounded better than Pringle, who, while a new member of the faculty, was still known to frequently use corporal punishment on students found in the halls after hours. While Tom was familiar enough with caning from his time in Wool's, it still didn't mean that he wanted to risk one, even for more time with Hermione.

He was looking forward to the future though. Judging by the girl's sharp recoil when he casually mentioned corporal punishment, attitudes must change within the next 50 years.

Upon reaching the entrance of the Slytherin Common Room, a muttered "_Pureblood_" got him in. The ego of people like Malfoy seemed to need to continually be stroked. It was a weakness that could become useful later, depending on who Tom would need for allies.

Tom found an open seat next to the ornate fireplace. As he watched the fire flicker, he contemplated how he could use Hermione in his endeavors. He knew that he wanted to make something of himself. The only question was what? With the other first year's knowledge of the future, he could be unstoppable in whatever he chose to do, not to mention the fact that her magical prowess was comparable to his. The only question was, how did he go about making her his ally. Sure, they were friends, but she still didn't trust him unconditionally. Her morals were too strong to allow her to flat out tell him every detail between 1937 and 1991, but perhaps with careful manipulation, he could loosen her tongue.

The time difference was also an issue. He would have to wait 50 years to be able to access her as an ally, and even then, she'd still be a child. They would lose access to the Room of Requirement in a mere seven years as well, leaving a lack of contact for far too long. And if they were in parallel timelines, there'd be a whole slew of problems. If that were the case, there was a very real possibility that the Hermione of his time would never meet him as he was now. Perhaps she'd meet the older variation, but not his 11 year old self. Quite simply, she wouldn't be _his_ Hermione anymore, merely a caricature of her.

That simply wouldn't do. The only person he was willing to call a friend was so far out of reach it was almost comical. He'd just have to fix that.

Perhaps, he could just pull her into his time, or find a way for them to communicate over the time that separated them. Maybe the use of written word would be adequate, though it still wouldn't solve the issue if they were from different timelines.

All of these thoughts of his future and her present, and her past and his present gave him a headache to be quite frank. Time was supposed to be clear and linear instead of the jumbled mess he found himself in the midst of.

Even in the wizarding world, where the impossible often was mundane, time was something that you didn't mess with.

As he made his way up to the boy's dormitory with a pounding headache, one thing was clear to him.

He was not going to let Hermione go.


End file.
